


In a Week

by KellerProcess



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Hastur goes to the realm of death, Ligur Lives (Good Omens), Other, Whee, Yes this is for general audiences but there are swears, all in 2000 words, and faces down three trials, blatant abuse of Hozier songs, but Hastur has to make that happen, he/him pronouns for Ligur, learns tarot, she/her pronouns for hastur, sorry Hozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26224414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KellerProcess/pseuds/KellerProcess
Summary: Death has Ligur.Hastur isn't going to let Death Keep him.(This fic originally appeared in "Oh Yuck! There's Demons in my Zine." Which is awesome!)
Relationships: Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	In a Week

  
**1) For Years or for Hours**

Every story must come to an end; that is the way of things. But often, the ending doesn’t satisfy everyone. And Hastur, duke of Hell, wasn’t good at satisfaction. Nor was she good at imagination, being a demon. But unbridled anger can make one creative, indeed.

As Death unfolded a pair of wings shot through with stars, she became not only unbridled but incandescent. Because Crowley had only pulled the trigger that had melted Ligur into steam and smoke. This dark thing had been the gun itself. And Hastur would not stand for it.

_Oh no you don’t._

With a snarl, and without so much as a thought, Hastur snapped her calloused fingers hard enough to turn the park into something like the inside of a snow globe. Crowley concussed at her feet; Dagon smirking at him in curiosity; angels hauling Aziraphale away for his own judgment. Everything frozen, save for Death himself. Wings out, ready to vanish into time, he also hesitated as if surprised that anyone could stop him.

That was all Hastur needed to lunge for his wing with a roar. The stars opened up around her, shaking with it as she fell through them.

_I’m Hastur, a duke of Hell._

_And I’ll be blessed if I let you keep ’im._

**2) Flesh Calmly Growing Cold**

The stars between creation’s atoms were of a cunning design. Not so the realm of Death. Hastur stood on the featureless gray plane sizing him up. He was taller than she, his eyes empty.

“Nothing living enters my realm.” His voice was empty too. “Why did you break my rules, demon?”

Hastur did not flinch. “You took my best mate. I want ’im back.”

Death, however, had no flesh with which to flinch. “Demons don’t even trust each other.”

“Uh-huh. Give ’im back. Now.”

“All things come in threes, and everything’s a game. Some play dice; some, other kinds.” Clearly, Death knew bargaining.

“Yeah? What of it?” But so did Hastur.

Three cards appeared in his bony fingers.

“ _And_?”

“Each of these is a challenge.” The cards tented as he shuffled. “You win, and he’s yours.”

Demons also excelled at betting. “I lose, and he’s yours.”

“Wiser than you look.” Death splayed them.

“Fuck you too.” Hastur ripped one from his grasp.

A human sitting on a bed, head in hands. Nine swords behind them.

“The Card of Exhaustion,” Death explained. “You will tire, but you cannot blink. Blink and you’ve lost.”

The landscape darkened.

“Well,” Hastur told the darkness, “fuck this for a game of soldiers.”

**3) I Have Never Known Sleep**

Demons need not blink.

Hastur’s eyes couldn’t remember that, however, and the tears falling from them pierced like swords.

_How long’ll this last?_ _How long can I do it for him?_

“That’s the thing, mate; you don’t have to.”

His voice was there but the darkness remained.

“Ligur? That you?”

“Shh.” Rough fingers brushed the tears away.

Hastur leaned into them. _And why’m I doin’ that, now?_ “Can’t see you….”

“Close your eyes.”

Hastur sniffed. “Looks like Death knows temptation.”

“It’s not that. Everything here ’s not what it seems. It’s like a contract. Y’know, the wording.”

“Wot?”

“I can only give three clues, love. Got to save two for the next tests—and you’ll get there.”

“I….”

“Hey.” His forehead pressed against hers, and oh, it was cold as Hell. “Do you trust me?”

“Demons don’t.” She didn’t move away, though.

_Like a contract…._ Hastur knew contracts too. And in the dark, it came to her.

_They always have loopholes. How’d I miss it?_ “You always were the smart one.”

“G’wan with you.” He pulled away. “You know what to do.”

And Hastur did. She didn’t blink.

Instead she closed her eyes.

“So,” Death said, “you passed.”

Hastur opened them and he was shuffling. She took a card as soon as he offered.

A human sat upon a bench. Nine goblets behind them. 

“The Card of Plenty,” Death explained. “You cannot eat. Eat, and you’ve lost.”

The landscape shifted again.

“Bugger this for a lark,” Hastur murmured.

**4) I Have Never Known Hunger**

A gilded hall at half-light. A banquet before her, the table so long she couldn’t see the end. She recognized ham, cheeses, wine. Other foods she did not know.

Her fingers drummed against her lips. _I just sit on my arse staring at this, then? Where’s that get me?_

“This ain’t like a contract,” she said as Ligur appeared beside her.

He nodded. And wasn’t he a sight. Same strong, thick body; same face that made her heart pound, even though she didn’t have one. But he was gray as Death’s realm; his eyes as empty as Death’s own. Even his chameleon was still as stone.

Hastur shuddered. “Wot’s the clue, then, love?”

_When did I start calling him that?_

“You need imagination.”

Hastur gritted her teeth. “Don’t have that, do I? You always were the one wot had some.”

Ligur’s hand on her shoulder was just as cold as his forehead had been. The fingers caressing her neck, though…. _Warm like heaven._

Hastur leaned into them. “I don’t know….”

“I trust you, darlin’.”

“Demons don’t.”

He didn’t move his hand, though.

She stared at the food. _Use my imagination._ And in the shadowed room, it came to her.

“That wasn’t hard,” she said.

“You always were the persistent one.”

“To Heaven with you.” Hastur did not pull away. “I know what to do.”

And Hastur did. She did not eat.

Instead, she feasted. As the last bite of chocolate passed her lips, the room faded into gray.

Death again. Shuffling his cards. “So,” he said. “You passed.” He presented them and Hastur snatched one.

A human with nine staves.

“The Card of Faith,” Death explained. “Fail, and he’s gone forever.”

“I’m getting tired of this,” Hastur grumbled.

This time, the landscape didn’t disappear. Instead, it exploded.

**5) I Have Never Known Color**

Ten thousand colors. Some of them impossible.

Hastur screamed, her hands over her eyes.

_What now? What’m I supposed to do?_

“Ligur?”

Only silence.

She tried his name again; silence still. “Bless it, mate! You said I’ve one more clue!”

“You just have to find me.” His voice came from all around her.

Hastur looked everywhere but there was only blinding color. Yellow, orange, red, blue, purple, white all burned, sinking her to her knees. She wanted to burn this whole joke down to ash. She couldn’t, though. There was no hand upon her shoulder; no fingers on her cheek. No voice like—like….

“Should’ve gone through that door first,” she told the changing landscape. “Should’ve known wot Crowley was about.” Hastur was never one to whisper, but her words came out in one regardless. “I can’t. Not then, not now. And this—it’s all my fault. I don’t deserve to save him. Heaven, I don’t deserve _him_.” She wiped her eyes but the tears kept coming. Demons did _not_ trust each other. They did not fight for one another. They did not chase down Death to save each other.

_“You always were the persistent one,”_ he’d said.

Ligur’s eyes were so many colors. Pink, black, violet, brown—

“Green.” The circlet of it had been so small in this strange place that she must’ve missed it; now it floated past, not over-bright, but understated.

His eyes were so many, many colors. But never that one. _Except when he looks at me._ Yes, she trusted him. _And I trust myself._ The circlet widened as it moved toward her. _Home._

Hastur did not need to think. Instead, she jumped through it. The green cocooned her as she fell.

“Bringin’ you home.”

**6) Your Hand in My Hand**

The circle contracted until it pushed her through. It closed into a single sea-green eye staring up at her. Ligur was so sturdy beneath her, solid but soft. That expression so dour, and then that familiar smirk.

“’Lo there, mate.” It became a smile. “Knew you’d do it.”

“Huh.” Hastur chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Hn. Yeah.”

Hastur had no name for what it meant when a smirk became a smile. But she knew she wanted to lean down and smile against it.

“You’ve won the game,” Death interrupted, making them separate and stand.

“Yeah. We have,” Ligur snapped.

“And we’ll be leaving now,” Hastur said.

“My realm has one more rule.” Death’s observation stopped them midturn. “As you leave, Hastur, do not look back at him. Do so, and he is mine.”

Hastur felt Ligur’s spine straighten as if it were her own. “Think we’ve had enough, Hastur?”

“Oh, I think we have, Ligur.”

They turned to face him down.

Death had no flesh with which to flinch. Yet, as they approached, he retreated. “What are you doing?” Another step forward. Another back.

“Hm. That a trace of fear, d’you think, love?” Oh, Ligur’s drawl. Like a serrated blade.

“Hm. Yeah. Can smell it on ’im.”

Ligur cracked his knuckles, and Hastur’s smile was all teeth.

“You dare threaten me? This is my realm, and—”

“Shut up.” Ligur never needed to shout. “Shut. The. _Fuck_. Up. All you put us through.”

Death’s bony jaw dropped one second before Ligur’s fist closed it for him. Death yelped and his hand was on his scythe. Yet he hesitated as if surprised that anyone could hit him. That was all Hastur needed to dart behind him and lock her elbows beneath his shoulder joints.

Ligur’s eyes seethed scarlet with raw hatred. Satan, how she’d missed that!

“You _can’t_!” Death whined. Ligur’s fist smashed against his ribcage anyway.

“You want to test me? Test _us_?” Hastur hissed against the hole that was his ear. “Let’s see you pass _this one_.”

Somewhere between the fifth and fifteenth wallop, Death stopped screaming. Sometime after that, he crumpled into bones. “I will come for all.” Death growled when his skull had stopped rolling. “I am Creation’s shad—”

Hastur stomped it into silence—which lasted just long enough for Ligur to dust off his hands.

“Hn. That went well.” He flicked some bone dust from his gloves.

“Yeah.” She’d missed that little gesture, too.

Ligur grinned back. “Let’s bugger off, then?” Hastur took his hand to lead him through the stars. “Don’t look back,” he said as they closed in. “Y’know. In case—”

“Oh, you’ll be behind me.”

“Hn.”

“What’s funny, love?”

“Just a funny old world, innit? Y’know.”

“Yeah.” Hastur squeezed his hand. “Hold on. Just hold on.” 

**7) Home with You**

“Not punished for your murder,” Hastur growled as they lurked through the cemetery.

“Not exactly murdered, was I?”

“Not the point.”

“No, definitely not. Gissa drag?”

Hastur handed him her cigarette, watched the smoke curl from his lips.

“Wot you starin’ at?” He passed it back.

“Mhn.” Hastur’s turn to exhale. “Didn’t know I was.” _Your eyes. They’re so green._

“What’s all this ‘love’ about lately?”

“Hm?”

“Havin’ a gander at my face again.” But he smiled. “Y’know. Love stuff. Callin’ each other that. This.” He held up their joined hands.

Hastur looked at them. “Not somethin’ we’re supposed to do, I’d think.”

“Did a lot we’re not supposed to lately.”

Hastur chuckled as he one-two punched the air. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

They lurked past a mausoleum. Hastur stubbed her cigarette out against its doors.

“Back there.” Ligur moved in front of her.

_So, so green._ “Hm?”

“Before he interrupted, you were—” He leaned in.

She could deny it. Say it was all a lark. Just shock at bringing a demon back from the dead. Who wouldn’t have been?

“Do you trust me?” She was close enough now to smell the tobacco on his lips.

“Yeah.” But she wouldn’t deny it. Not ever again. “And you trust me?”

“Yeah.” He was close enough to smell the smoke on hers.

“Gissa kiss, then?”

Every story must come to an end; that is the way of things. But often, the ending doesn’t satisfy everyone. Or at least not fully. Yet as they kissed again and again, hands intertwined, the dukes of hell were satisfied indeed.


End file.
